Local Woman Assaulted by Chicken

So, the other day it came time to feed the chickens. Since the kids were in the house, and you know how kids can find trouble in a split second, I ran out to the chicken coop as fast as possible. Unfortunately, some of the chickens ran out as I opened the coop door. Since I didn’t want them to run off and hide their eggs only-God-know-where I tried to round the rogue chickens all up to get them back in the coop.

The chickens didn’t care that I was in my fuzzy white robe, or that I was still in my pajamas or that there was a thunderstorm looming. They just continued to run circles around the coop despite my best attempts to catch them. They didn’t care that the neighbors probably thought I was some pajama-clad whack job chasing down chickens at 9 in the morning.

Finally, I cornered one. It was just me vs. chicken. We stared each other down for a few minutes as we both planned out our attack strategy. I leapt forward, scrambling in the most futile manner, trying to snag any part of a chicken with my hands. Chicken came straight at my face, wings a-blazing. My glasses went flying over my head. Let me just tell you that you never realize how blind you really are until your glasses get slapped off of your face in a split second. I froze, not wanting to smash my $300 pair of glasses (no matter if I got free frames, inevitably, my glasses would still cost $300 for whatever reason). Everything looked like a big brown blob as I gently patted the ground looking for my glasses. Bear in mind, the kids are alone in the house and a storm is approaching, and now it is starting to sprinkle and thunder. I curse the chicken with the best words I know how. It is probably the first time I have ever cursed at my poultry. I made a 3 foot radius with my hands….no glasses. I am suddenly struck with the thought of Velma on ScoobyDoo, screaming her famous line, “My glasses! Where are my glasses?!?” and I come to completely sympathize with poor Velma and that it most certainly is NOT funny, not even in the least bit. I feel terrible for ever making fun of Velma losing her glasses. It also occurs to me that it’s a darn good thing that the Mystery Gang didn’t pack heat, because if they had, Velma would have rained down a hailstorm of bullets on the monster as soon as she DID locate her glasses. Yes, it is THAT frustrating. Now I am nearly on the verge of tears, angry with my stupid genes for giving me this stupid, crappy vision and mad at the stupid hen for losing my stupid glasses. Then I remember I have an ancient pair in my car.

Shuffling so as not to crush my lost spectacles, I run to the car as I am now getting soaking wet in the rain and throw on my old pair. For those of you who have glasses, you will sympathize with me when I say it was like walking in the old Casa Magnetico house at Six Flags, or trying to walk after drinking a fifth of whiskey (I wouldn’t know personally, just a guess). I ran, sideways, back to the coop where shortly thereafter I found my dumb glasses, about 4 foot BEHIND where I had been standing in the initial assault.

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OK. I’ve laughed so hard I have a stitch in my side. I can just seeeee you. That happened to me once when bees attacked me. Didn’t know which to worry about more – being killed by bees or stomping on my glasses – which I positively could NOT see! Lost them on your mother’s bed the other morning and nearly had to call for emergency help when my hand patted them. Pathetic.

I remember about 10 years ago when I had JUST gotten a new pair of glasses, a bumblebee flew in between my glasses and my eye. Of course, they went flying off and chipped the bottom of them. Murphy’s Law.